He is not usually recognized
for his searching the sidewalk—sorry,
I meant his sidewalk.
Before I leave, I tilt open the blinds
because he cannot.
And when I return, I watch him watch.
His lion mane, in all its canine irony,
shines golden
in the waning light of the afternoon.
He turns his graying head
suddenly, and looks with an intensity
that cannot be broken by my mere
presence.
When he barks in alarm, his breath
fogging the foyer pane,
It is no surprise there is a lowly cat
intruding too close into his kingdom.
After all, what is a pet if not
the protector
of his protectors?
-A.J
Paper Wings 
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